


If You Keep a Diary, Someone's Bound To Dig It Up

by InfiniteInMystery



Series: Some Things May Haunt Us But That's Why We Have Exorcisms [1]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Bonding, Gangbang, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Beta We Die With Errors, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recording, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteInMystery/pseuds/InfiniteInMystery
Summary: Young and desperate after the war, Katsura has a bad night at a bar. He's left with demons that will come back to haunt him far in the future.
Relationships: Katsura Kotarou/Takasugi Shinsuke, Mob/Katsura Kotarou
Series: Some Things May Haunt Us But That's Why We Have Exorcisms [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1336831
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	If You Keep a Diary, Someone's Bound To Dig It Up

It was one of those things that Takasugi should have paid more attention to. He should have thought a little more critically when the situation had first come up, when Katsura showed up at his front door vibrating with anxious energy. He shouldn't have reacted so  _ emotionally _ , so negatively, should have looked a little closer, thought a little harder.

But he didn't. And in the future, he wouldn't blame his past self because this was just  _ how _ he was, and this was just how  _ Katsura _ was.

But Takasugi couldn't take it back.

It hadn't even been a year since they'd been dragged out of the war. Takasugi's eye still throbbed even though it had healed, hands still reaching for his blade anytime someone moved too fast or something sounded too loud. He'd taken to hiding out in Kyoto. Recovering. Festering. Building himself an army. Securing himself a ship. He was an animal, pacing around his little apartment, getting angrier by the day. The war was still raging inside of him and it was taking everything he had not to go out and slaughter people on the streets. Why wasn't he slaughtering people, again? Why? What was he going to do? Where could someone like him go? His only option was to slaughter the people he had tried to protect, or to disappear into space like how Sakamoto had fled. There was pain in his face and burning in his heart and a beast howling in his ears.

The war was over.

The war was  _ over. _

The war was over, but Takasugi wasn't over  _ it. _

But when the knock sounded on his front door, when Takasugi cracked the wood open and saw Zura standing out there, his eyes so dull and lifeless, the war roared inside of Takasugi once again. The beast growled, old wounds tearing back open like they hadn't been closing in the first place. Just like that, Katsura reverted everything Takasugi had strived to change for himself. Just like that, Katsura made Takasugi  _ weak. _

“Zura.” Takasugi said. The door was still cracked open only an inch, his right eye wide as he stared out.

“Takasugi.” Katsura said, smiling brightly. It didn't reach his eyes like it used to. His face was paler than Takasugi remembered, thinner. His eyelashes fluttered in exhaustion. In his hand, Katsura lifted up a bottle of sake. “Let me in?”

He shouldn't have let him in.

In the main room, Katsura settled onto his knees at the low table, setting the bottle down. Takasugi managed to find two mismatched cups, placing them within Katsura's reach as he himself lounged at the table. He wouldn't pass up sake, but the nature of Katsura's visit left him suspicious. In his hand he had his kiseru, fiddling with it between his fingers, tempted to smoke, tempted to draw his sword and send Katsura out. Katsura supported Gintoki, had told him what that bastard had done was  _ okay _ .

Perhaps Zura was here to apologize for that, to admit he had been wrong.

“What brings you to Kyoto?” Takasugi asked, knowing very well that Katsura had recently become a public debacle, causing problems in the streets and running from the police. Katsura had done nothing to keep a low profile, had turned to causing trouble in the cities the second his injuries had healed. Takasugi didn't know what he wanted yet. He wanted everything and nothing at the same time. To give up and to destroy.

Was Katsura here to hide? If so, he was about to be very disappointed.

There were men hunting for the Joui Four, men hunting for their heads. It wasn’t common knowledge, but Sakamoto had left a warning the last time Takasugi had seen him. Sakamoto had disappeared into space the first chance he had gotten, was off their radar. The idiot had never pissed Takasugi off as much as the rest so he supposed he wished Sakamoto well. Gintoki? Takasugi didn't give a fuck where he had made off too. Perhaps that fucker had taken his own life already. Good.

If that man ever showed his face to Takasugi, Takasugi would personally take his head. After he took Gintoki's eyes and his tongue and those hands that had destroyed everything Takasugi had ever cared about. Maybe he'd even let Gintoki live long enough to beg at his feet, to hurt so bad that he craved the death he didn't even deserve. And maybe, maybe after letting Gintoki suffer, Takasugi would take his head too.  _ After I take his hands and his feet and his knees and his elbows and- _

Takasugi's hand curled around the kiseru, his rage threatening to break the pipe.  _ Gintoki. _

Katsura laughed like he wasn't the instant source of Takasugi's anger, the sounded dragging Takasugi out of his looping thoughts. With Katsura came Gintoki, and with Gintoki came the white-hot  _ rage. _

“I came to lie low. I thought perhaps I'd bring you a peace offering.” Katsura said casually, smiling like they had seen each other just yesterday, were still friends, were still comrades, were still  _ at war- _

No, there was more to Katsura's story than just that, Takasugi knew. It was in that tone, the way Katsura's smile suddenly sparkled in his eyes. Takasugi squinted, watched as Katsura poured the sake into both cups. The bones in his hands were white against his skin, his jaw so clear cut Takasugi could see the muscles jump clearly in his neck as he slightly turned away.

“A peace offering for what?”

Katsura glanced over to him, smile frozen. Perhaps he felt cornered. Pushing one of the cups Takasugi's way, Katsura didn't break eye contact. “Join me. The war is lost, but the goal can still be achieved. I've regrouped a large number of men. Another commander would be nice.”

Is he serious?

“We've been-”

“Get out.” Takasugi said. He didn't make a move for the sake, his wavering gaze fixed on Katsura. His ears were ringing, muscles tense. Katsura couldn't just bring the war to Takasugi's doorstep and expect him not to bite him.

“What-”

“Get the fuck out.” Takasugi snapped, eye widening, lips curling to bare teeth when Katsura's mouth began to open again. His hands shook, the need to slash and gut anyone in his vicinity suddenly overwhelming again. “Take your war elsewhere. I don't have time for this.”

“Takasugi-”

“I don't need to hold your fucking hand.” Takasugi snapped, finally shifting onto his knees, getting up slowly and dangerously enough that Katsura stood up with him. Takasugi reveled in the wariness that Katsura suddenly exhibited. “You want to continue fighting? Then fight. Leave me out of it.”

Takasugi would never forget those eyes. The way the fire in Katsura's olive eyes suddenly sparked like Takasugi had blown on the flames.

–

Two hours after drinking to his woes, and Katsura's head was spinning faster than he would have liked. His last drink had gone down sour, leaving a bad taste in his mouth and a suspicious urgency rising up in his stomach. The bar lights were dim but flashing, the murmur loud but not too loud. It all seemed the blend into one another, to leave Katsura struggling to focus, to leave Katsura feeling like he was spinning.

_ What am I even doing? _ He was nursing his fourth drink, his thin body already rejecting the alcohol, his low tolerance already overloaded, and trying to keep up with his miserable pace.

Katsura hadn't expected Takasugi to reject him. It had been low on the list of possible outcomes, had been so low that Katsura had doubted it would even happen. He had been hopeful, had been craving Takasugi's presence. While else would Katsura spend weeks trying to track him down? Sakamoto was in space, Gintoki?

Well. Katsura feared the worst.

Takasugi had been permanently angry after the hill, and Katsura hadn't blamed him. Gintoki had been miserable, Sakamoto accepting. But Katsura had found Takasugi first. Takasugi had always been there, had always been Katsura's guiding light. Perhaps Katsura should have told him that when they were younger, should have told him that before everything went wrong.

_ It's very possible I love him. _

The war had scattered them, had left them all weak and wounded, hiding out to try and lick their wounds before- before what? What could they do? Regroup? Try again? Find a new cause to fight for together?

The war had taken everything away. Their home. Their teacher. Their friendship. Their love. The war had simply cut everything down in its path, had groomed tiny monsters into adult demons, and then it had spit them out and left them to die.

Puking wasn't one of Katsura's strongest traits. The war had changed that for him too. Ever since that first week on the battlefield, Katsura had somehow managed to keep more down than ever before, the blood and gut slowly become the worst thing he had ever seen, and then just another daily occurrence. He had learned to eat amongst the corpses, had learned to sleep amongst the corpses, had learned to keep everything down.

The world spun as Katsura got up in a rush. Katsura slammed into the tiny little bathroom stall, his insides already coming up as he staggered in and choked, missing the bowl the first time. Vomit splashed onto the floor, the sound itself spurring Katsura's stomach into relieving itself. He leaned forward, one hand to the back of the gross toilet, one hand desperately trying to keep his hair back as he threw up again and again, his temple throbbing worse each and every time he did it. Tears were streaking down his face, his kimono hiking up high enough for Katsura to be aware of it from his bent-over position. It was too much. It was all too much.

Living was too much.

“Here, let me help.” Someone said gently behind him, and suddenly there were two firm, large hands in Katsura's hair, one pulling his bangs away from his face, his long strands disappearing over his shoulder into the other.

Katsura heaved up everything he could, his eyes half-lidded in misery as he panted and choked over the toilet. Simply looking at what had come out of him made him gag again, a fresh wave of dizziness and misery crashing through him. He dry heaved, eyes closing, thankful that whoever it was with their hands in his hair flushed the toilet for him.

The stranger helped Katsura stand, encouraged him to lean against the wall while he ripped off some toilet paper to wipe Katsura's mouth. Katsura's eyes cracked open just enough to see who had helped him. It was an Amanto. He was tall and broad, with purple-gray skin and elongated ears. His face was young, dark hair pulled into a high tail, his eyes deceivingly gentle.

Immediately, Katsura was conflicted. A part of him wanted to grab the  _ wakizashi _ hidden under his haori, another part of him wanted to recognize that this creature, this  _ person _ , was helping him.  _ Maybe… I've been in the wrong this whole time. _

_ The war really ruined us, didn't it? _

“Thanks.” Katsura said. His throat was suddenly painfully dry, his whole body protesting in exhaustion. He had never been one to drink, but now, he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Takasugi's rejection had hit  _ hard _ .

“No problem.” The Amanto said. He moved in then, tucking a strand of hair behind Katsura's ear. “Let me take you home.”

“No, I can make it. I can call for a ride.” Katsura said. He was suddenly uncomfortable, the Amanto too close, to huge, too  _ dangerous. _ He weakly tried to push past the Amanto, but the Amanto wrapped his massive hands around Katsura's skinny wrists and held him firmly against the wall. Katsura turned a glare up to him, his thoughts incoherent and he suddenly felt the need to  _ attack. _

“I said I'm fine. Thank you for your help.” Katsura said, sounding as rude as he felt. If this Amanto didn't take his hands off him, Katsura would gut him right here. It had taken  _ months _ to accustom himself to regular life, had taken him  _ months _ to ignore the murderous urge constantly thrumming in his veins.

_ Post-traumatic. _ Katsura had admitted it and accepted it immediately, had known that if he wanted to topple the Bakufu, possibly single-handed, then he was going to have to be at the top of his game. As it turned out, his hands suddenly cold and his eyes suddenly locked on the Amanto's jugular, self-help could only go so far.

“I  _ insist. _ ” The Amanto said, one hand curling painfully tight around Katsura's wrist. His other hand threaded painfully in Katsura's bangs and when he tilted Katsura's head back, his sadistic smile was splitting his face. His teeth were jagged, pointed. And suddenly Katsura wasn't trapped in a little bathroom in the middle of Edo, the war long lost, Katsura was on the battlefield, and one moment of hesitation would get him killed, would stop him from saving  _ Sensei. _

“What do you want?” Katsura snapped, and perhaps, that had been the wrong questions. Perhaps, there was nothing Zura could have said to help himself all along. One of Katsura's hands was free, and he dropped it to his belt, the  _ wakizashi _ cool and familiar in his grip.

“You're Katsura Kotarou. You suddenly showed up out of nowhere with a  _ bang _ , you know. What do you think I want?” The Amanto said suggestively, and suddenly the bathroom door popped open, two more Amanto filing into the little bathroom. One of them locked the door behind him, a predatory smile splitting his lips.

_ Revenge? Vengeance? To kill me? _ Katsura didn't ask, didn't have time. The alcohol was ruining his thoughts, catching him off guard. He should have drawn his short blade already, should have already stabbed it into the Amanto's guts and twisted.

_ Have I gone soft? Grown a conscience? Or am I just ready for the end? _

“Holy shit, it really is him.” One of the other Amanto said, a short little man also with purple-gray skin. His blond hair was short and crazy, like stalks of hay. He was the fastest to approach, his smile sharp and cut wide. He was also the ugliest. He reached out, fingers sliding through Katsura's long silky hair, long nails catching on a few loose strands.

Katsura hesitated to strike. He had missed his chance, or perhaps, he had earned himself a better one soon.

“He's so much tinier than I expected.” The other Amanto said. He was of the same species just average height, his face older and more worn. He crossed his arms, head tilting, long red hair swaying as he did so. Katsura didn't remember their kind, but then again, the species he had slain had all become a blur in the end.

The Amanto holding Katsura against the wall suddenly groped him, his hand firmly snagging between Katsura's legs and squeezing. “I think he's little in all departments. What do you say? Should we take him for a ride before we gut him like a fish and leave him at the Bakufu's door?”

“Hey.” Katsura hit him with the palm of his left hand just as he drew his  _ wakizashi. _

“Whoah, whoah, stop him!”

Katsura tried to draw his blade, but the largest of the group seized his hand before he could get it out.  _ Have I lost my touch? _ Chortling and laughing, the two new members instantly crowded Katsura's space. One of them took his short sword, another got his hands on Katsura's face to admire him, fingers sliding through his hair and then tugging painfully hard.

“I'd like to make that pretty mouth beg. It's the least you could do, for all the lives you've taken and the lives you plan to take. Runaway Kotarou, hey? Won't be doing any running when we're through with you.” The shortest Amanto said with a sneer. He hauled Katsura's head back, red eyes trailing down Katsura's exposed neck. He licked at his bottom lip, eyes trailing down Katsura's neck to what little he had exposed of his chest.

“Let's take him.” The largest suggested. He reached out, pinching Katsura's nose. “Say 'ahhh'!”  
  
Katsura tried to pull his head back but he was already trapped against the wall by the sheer number of hands on him. He clenched his teeth together but they forced his jaw open with their hands. A powdery table was shoved down his throat, small enough that he wouldn't die when he choked on it, but he choked all the same. Katsura bit down, teeth clamping over fingers, one of them snapping beneath the force. It had been the shortest Amanto, his scream echoing in the small bathroom. A slap struck his cheek and left him spinning, his lip splitting from the hit.

“You little shit.”

“Bend him over!”

Easily, they whisked him off his feet. The largest shoved Katsura's hips into the nearby counter, and by his hair, he bent Katsura over a sink. Katsura's cheek pressed into the mirror, his hands flat on the counter's surface as he struggled against them.

“We'll see if you bite back once we're done with you!” The largest snapped. He struck his hand off Katsura's ass, a yelp tearing unbidden from Katsura's throat.

Katsura groaned, his fingers claws against the counter as the largest Amanto shoved his groin against Katsura's hips, grinding against him with a laugh. They were chattering, the smallest complaining, but Katsura couldn't hear them past the ring in his ears, his heart hammering in chest like that one time when he hadn't raised his sword up fast enough to defend himself. Just this time, Takasugi didn't have his back, wasn't  _ right there _ to save him from the crippling blow.

The largest Amanto started to thrust against Katsura's clothed backside, painfully bouncing Katsura's hips into the sink as a premonition for what was to come. One hand snagged into the hair at the base of Katsura's neck to keep him still, the Amanto's lips ghosting past Katsura's ear, tongue darting out just to teasingly touch skin. The other two began to hoot and holler, getting on the action, touching his hair, his face, sliding their hands under his clothes and squeezing at his skin. They were calling him names, Katsura thought, but he was too busy trying to keep himself calm.

“Just you wait until we get you home.” The Amanto, who had  _ helped him _ , who had made him reconsider his ways for that fleeting moment, said. “You think you're going to start a revolution in this country? Do you want to be famous? We'll make you famous. You're going to die out from fame like a shooting star.”

“I'm not a shooting star, I'm Katsura.” Katsura snapped, trying to still himself, worrying that he was just encouraging the Amanto the more he fought. He stopped squirming then, eyes darting around hopelessly, searching for something that could possibly help him out of this situation.

There were worse things than dying after all.

The largest Amanto of the group aggressively slid his hands beneath the hem of Katsura's yukata, thick fingers sliding firmly up the back of Katsura's thighs before kneading painfully into his ass. Katsura groaned, one hand sliding back to try and pry the Amanto off of him.

“You're going to put that pretty little mouth to work.” The Amanto laughed, before grabbing a fist full of Katsura's hair and hauling him back. Katsura groaned as he was thrown down to his knees, his face hardly missing the sink.

“If you bite, I'll cut your tongue off.” The shortest Amanto threatened, one of his fingers already turning bright red from the earlier bite.

“You really like to push your luck.” Katsura laughed, turning his eyes up and grinning brightly. “You really want to try again?”

The Amanto slapped him, slapped him so hard that Katsura saw stars. The shorter Amanto stepped closer, but the largest suddenly stuck out his hand to stop him.

“Just wait.” The lower voice said. He sounded annoyed, which Katsura could understand. “He'll bite right now, just look at him. Just wait until we get back.”

–

By the time they got Katsura to stop squirming and managed to tie his hands together with a belt, Katsura was already dazed and didn't even need to be bound. The three Amanto hauled Katsura outside through the back door like any common drunk, sandwiching him into the back of a car just in case he did anything stupid like try to escape.

By the time they got to the hideout, or whatever it was that they were deciding to call it, Katsura found that he could hear again, found that it was easy to fake the effects of the drug until he was ready to spring his attack.

He let the eldest Amanto throw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. But at the door to a regular looking apartment, Katsura suddenly made his move.

Katsura's knee collided with the Amanto's face, breaking his nose beneath the weight of it. The Amanto choked, dropping Katsura, and Katsura was on his feet and running before he even found his balance. There was yelling, a sudden moment of chaos that spared Katsura an extra few seconds.

He didn't make it far.

“I got him!” The short Amanto tackled Katsura at his waist, slamming him down into the alley ground. The tallest was suddenly on him, one hand snagging into the back of Katsura's hair. They hauled him up to his feet, another strike dashing across Katsura's face, sending him straight back to the ground. Katsura scoffed, but the hands in his hair hand him stumbling to his feet before his head even had the chance to stop spinning.

They were quick to get him inside and away from prying eyes, where they immediately threw him down onto the hallway floor. The shortest Amanto caught him by the hair, hauling him to his knees, the tallest stepping up nice and close, hips swaying side to side, his groin inches from Katsura's face. He slowly dropped his hands down to his belt buckle, making a show of unclasping it as he peered down his nose.

Perhaps he thought Katsura would be intimidated. Katsura showed his teeth, bared them like the Amanto liked to do, threatening them should they do what he thought they would.

“Cute.” The Amanto said before popping the front of his pants open and grabbing Katsura firmly by the throat, his thumb sliding up just under Katsura's jaw and squeezing hard until Katsura choked. Katsura tried to keep his jaw clenched shut, but when the Amanto applied pressure he gasped, his fingers clawing at the hand trapped around his neck.

The second Katsura's mouth was open, the Amanto shoved himself in, sliding deep against the back of Katsura's throat until he choked again. Katsura gagged around him, that hand still snug underneath his jaw, encouraging him to keep his mouth open.

It was done faster than expected. The second the Amanto pulled out, Katsura gagged, keeling over onto his hands and knees, panting for the breath he had lost.

They were quick to wrestle with him down then. The tallest was suddenly on him, between his legs, tearing Katsura's yukata open.

“No!” Katsura threw a fist the Amanto's way, but that fist was caught by the shortest, both of Katsura's wrists seized and slammed down above his head where the Amanto then sat on them.

“You really are a slinky little bastard.” The largest Amanto snapped. “The fastest way to take care of Runaway Kotarou is to stop him from running, you know? And what better way to do that then to make sure his legs don't work?”

“Wait-” Katsura groaned as the Amanto suddenly shoved against him. Katsura groaned, struggling against the grips on his hands, his legs kicking at the Amanto rutting against him with heavy breaths to no avail. Katsura was wheezing, desperately trying to twist out from beneath the Amanto's grips.

“Are you okay?” The shortest suddenly asked the average as he walked by, blood gushing from his nose.

Katsura ignored them, his kick almost colliding with the tallest Amanto's face too just as he thrust in.

Katsura tilted his head back and screamed. They were quick to slap a hand over his mouth, the two of them laughing while the third disappeared to clean up his face. The tallest bounced into Katsura slowly at first, making himself fit, before fluids started to smooth the motions out. The Amanto quickly sped up, sliding Katsura along the floor as he rapidly approached his climax.

Katsura moaned, long and low in pain as the Amanto spilled inside of him. His body was hot, on fire, every nerve burning as he was filled to the brim. When the Amanto pulled out, Katsura found he couldn't breathe, his eyes burning and knees curling up protectively towards his chest.

“Let him go.” The tallest snapped as he sat up, fixing his pants. He glared down at Katsura, a coy smile spreading across his lips. “Let's see him run now.”

The shortest laughed, but he didn't let go of Katsura's wrists. He stood up instead, dragging Katsura along the floor further into the house just because he could. “Don't worry. We'll knock you out once I'm done with you.”

Gritting his teeth, Katsura put up the best fight he could.

But in the end, this too wasn't enough.

–

“Oh…” Katsura sighed breathless, head lolling to the side. He moaned as he shifted, eyes prying open to blearily take in his surroundings. There was a light on in the corner, a lamp perhaps giving a soft yellow glow, lighting up just enough for him to make out nearby objects and a few photos on the wall. He didn't feel awake, but he didn't feel like he was sleeping either. He actually felt like this had already happened, and he was just merely repeating the scenario because he had previously forgotten.

He was in an unfamiliar bedroom sprawled out on his back in a massive western-style bed, sinking into the cold satin sheets with his hands resting by his face. His body felt like lead, heavy and sluggish as he tried to move, hands closing into fists just to make sure they were still working. The bed had been shoved up against the wall, Katsura closer to the wall than the edge.

In a daze, he glanced towards movement at the end of the bed, eyes tiredly landing on the shadow of a leopard-print Amanto unfastening the tie on his pants. There was only one door in the room behind the stripping Amanto, no window, and Katsura doubted that door was unlocked.

_ Wait… what the fuck? _

The Amanto wasn't large for his species. He was slender and soft, his eyes cutting over to Katsura the second Katsura had woken up. There was a camera on a stand in the far corner by the dresser, aimed at the bed for optimal viewing. Katsura had an inkling that the camera was brand new, had seen enough security cameras and had learned how they work so he could get by them. It was on, the little red light making Katsura's stomach roil dangerously. This suddenly looked like one of those scary stories his men had told under the darkness of the stars.

A sound escaped the back of Zura's throat when he realized what was going on, and his hands moved down to his sides, gripping the sheets at his hips. He was suddenly aware he was naked, lying atop the covers. The room wasn't freezing, but he was still cold, his skin suddenly prickling, the hairs on his arms standing on end. Panic suddenly coursed through him as the memory of what had happened in the bar bathroom flooded him. And? And something else, right? How long had it been? Desperate, Katsura tried to move, tried to force himself to sit up. He needed to escape, and he needed to escape before that Amanto got to him on the bed.

“Don't get up, you'll fall.” the Amanto said, pants dropping from his waist. He stepped out of them with a grin pulling his lips back as he lifted one knee to the bed. He was shadowed in the dim light, a hulking form with glittering white teeth. He could have been beautiful, Katsura's attraction to the fur speaking, but he had to be a monster in the dark instead.

Warily, Zura huffed what could have been mistaken for a laugh, trying to force himself into a sitting position. His head automatically spun, body still exhausted from the alcohol and drugs. He knew he'd been lucky in the bathroom, that the touching had been the only thing done against his will. Now, he wasn't so sure he'd be getting away so easily. Wasn't so sure he could even put up half the fight. Wasn't so sure they hadn't already had their way with him, his body lax and pliant.

When Katsura's arms gave out, sending him back down to the smooth sheets, the Amanto laughed.

“I told you.” He said, crawling onto the mattress, slowly moving over Katsura's feet and then his legs, strong knees flanking Katsura's bare thighs. “You don't listen very well, do you?”

“No.” Katsura said, but it came out more like a moan, the Amanto straddling his waist. One large hand came up to Katsura's cheek, the claw dragging across skin.

“You'll be good for me?” The Amanto asked, piercing skin along Katsura's jaw, drawing blood.

“Nope.” Katsura said. He spat in the Amanto's face before shoving his hand straight into the beast's nose. The eyes were too far away from his fingers, so he had settled for the next best thing. The Amanto growled, his hand snapping around Katsura's forearm and cinching tight, shoving them back down to the bed beside Katsura's face.

Katsura gasped, back arching, trying to wrestle his other hand free but the Amanto's grip was firm. One of the Amanto's knees slunk between Katsura's legs, spreading him wide as he forced himself between.

“No!” Katsura tried to wiggle and twist, only managing to create more room for the Amanto above him.

“Don't worry.” The Amanto purred, leaning down and rubbing the side of his furry face against Katsura's. “We've already had you for a few days, so this shouldn't hurt. You'll be okay until they get bored with you, or the customers stop coming.”

Katsura cried out more out of misery than pain when the beast pushed into him. He was already open and loose, was sure now that this wasn't the first time. Katsura moaned when something inside of him started to tingle, pleasure coursing through his veins from the unwanted attention. Katsura's head tilted back as the Amanto started to leisurely thrust into him and the monster had been right. It didn't hurt. Physically at least. But knowing that he was enjoying it, getting hard as the Amanto continued to pant in his ear and slide deep into his body, was the worst pain of all.

Moaning, Katsura's head tilted back. His hands were still trapped by his head, but when he came, he turned his head to the side, pleasure washing over him. The Amanto pulled out before he finished, and Katsura doubted it had been out of consideration. After lingering for a moment, the Amanto got off the bed, taking the warmth with him.

_ They said they've had me for days already. They're selling my body off, aren't they? Don't hurt the merchandise. _ Katsura chuckled, placing the back of his hand over his lips.  _ This is it, this is how I'm going to go. _

Katsura giggled into his hands, rolling onto his side. He curled up a little, his empty stomach churning painfully, genuine fear settling into his chest.

“Drink this.” The Amanto said, sitting on the edge of the bed again. He leaned over, placing a cup to Katsura's lips.

Katsura languidly propped himself onto his elbows, his eyes half-lidded, his body too tired and numb to do anything about his current situation. Katsura drank. Because he needed to live, he needed to live beautifully, and maybe, perhaps, in the back of his mind, he thought that he  _ deserved _ this. For losing the war. For losing his men.

For silently crying while Takasugi screamed and Gintoki did the deed none of them would have ever been able to do.

Katsura welcomed the drugs. That, or he didn't want to admit that he was succumbing to them.

When Katsura closed his eyes, he dreamed he had been given a chopstick for his rice, and he was expertly stabbing it straight through a Werewolf's throat.

–

Groggily, Katsura's slipped back into consciousness, his eyes fluttering gently open. He was surprised to wake up  _ empty _ , in a lot of senses of the word. His memory was fleeting, but there were images there. Feelings. He knew what had happened, where he was.

He didn't bother moving from his back, didn't think he wanted to attract the Amanto's attention. His brain was still tired, still silent, so he simply closed his eyes again, his ears straining to hear any of the threats nearby. He was tired. Exhausted. Was ashamed he had given up, but he was committed now to his decision. That was how this had all started, wasn't it? Katsura had dedicated himself to saving their teacher and winning the war, and now that his teacher was gone, he had continued to dedicate himself to winning the war that was no longer being fought.

Past the ring in his ears, Katsura heard nothing he had grown accustomed to in his drugged haze. Instead, he heard the sound of water sloshing. A splash followed it shortly, the straining of cloth as it was squeezed out. Curiosity killed the cat, Katsura's eyes opening again, his head rolling to the side to see what he would have to endure  _ now. _

Shockingly, it was Takasugi sitting next to him. Katsura blinked. Was he dreaming?

The man was hunched over a small bowl, wringing out a cloth. It looked like Katsura was lying in a small room, a small, normal, traditional styled room.  _ Where… am I? _

When the last droplet dripped from the fabric, Takasugi glanced Katsura's way, his single eye wide and shining and piercing straight through Katsura's soul. He looked annoyed, angry, yet relieved, all at the same time. Katsura wasn't sure why or how, but it appeared as though Takasugi had saved him.  _ Or am I still dreaming? Maybe the drugs have me confused? Maybe... _

Takasugi didn't say anything. He simply leaned over and placed the cool cloth against Katsura's forehead, his palm flat against the cloth to unnecessarily hold it in place, but still gentle.

“Taka-”

“Shut up.” Takasugi said. He didn't remove his hand. He slid his palm down, forcing Katsura to close his eyes. “Did you know you're fucking stupid?”

Katsura chuckled because  _ this _ was Takasugi's dumb way of showing affection. His throat was raw and his voice weak. When he spoke, his voice cracked like he was going to cry. “ _ Yeah. _ ”

“You're lucky it was only a day.” Takasugi said. And Katsura was suddenly relieved. In all honesty, he was almost afraid to ask why he was lucky it had only been a day. Katsura just shut his mouth instead, let the tears slip past his closed eyelids and disappear into the cloth.

He didn't get out of that futon for the next twenty-four hours. Instead, he writhed in misery as the drugs left his system, and then writhed in even  _ more _ misery as his body accustomed to the pain. His muscles were sore, cramping, and tense, had been pushed beyond their limits. His body was struggling to function, hunger and dehydration keeping him down. He had never felt this miserable, never felt this defeated, and the whole time he had to dream and remember  _ them. _ Those short little snippets of Amanto crawling over him, the crippling worry that he had been subjected to them for weeks and months and maybe even  _ years. _

But on the second morning, Katsura was well enough to get up. Shakily, he stood up, leaving the blanket behind even though he wanted to drag it with him like it could protect him. He quietly left Takasugi's futon, the gentle sounds of the city outside reassuring him as he padded over to the door. Slipping out of the bedroom and into the main room, he spotted Takasugi lounging at a lonely low table, a book open on the table. Wrapping his borrowed yukata tighter around his thin frame, Katsura regretted leaving the blanket as he quietly approached, sitting down close beside Takasugi on the tatami.

Katsura tried to wet his mouth, but it was desperately dry. “Thank-”

“Shut up.” Takasugi said. He didn't look Katsura's way, simply flipped the page of the book. “It's been taken care of.”

Katsura didn't ask, and perhaps they would never talk about this again. Maybe he didn't want to know, didn't need to know. Instead, he just huddled into the yukata, his eyes on the pipe in Takasugi's other hand. Katsura wasn't sure what to say, secretly knew deep down that he hadn't meant for  _ this _ to happen. He had never wanted to force Takasugi to rescue him, that hadn't been his intent. He just hoped Takasugi knew that.  _ Does he still hate me? Did this make everything worse? Is he just going to kick me out now? Do I owe him? How did I even escape? What happened to the Amanto? The tapes? _

After a moment, Takasugi sighed. He sighed so hard and so loud that Katsura had to stop thinking, was suddenly worried for a moment that Takasugi wouldn't stop sighing and would just keel over right there.

“Taka-”

“Just do it.” Takasugi complained. He sounded annoyed, but not angry. He set his pipe down, turning Katsura's way. “Your puppy eyes are annoying.”

Katsura whined just as his face scrunched pathetically, tears immediately leaking from his eyes. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Takasugi's shoulders and squeezing him so tight they both lost their breath. When Katsura started to cry, Takasugi simply placed a hand on his back, his chin pressed into Katsura's shoulder. He wouldn't console him, couldn't. But this alone was enough for Katsura, more than what he would have asked for.

“Don't be stupid in the future.” Takasugi said. He huffed, his hand suddenly pressing into Katsura's back, keeping him close. It was the closest thing to a hug Katsura would ever get. And this, right then and now, reassured that perhaps Takasugi didn't hate him, perhaps in the future, things would change for the better.

Perhaps they could heal.

“I won't be stupid, I'm sorry.” Katsura cried, rubbing his face into Takasugi's yukata.

Takasugi shoved him away then, grossed out from Katsura rubbing his tears and snot into his shoulder. Takasugi didn't speak immediately, seemed to be warring with something inside himself. But when he turned back to the book, Katsura knew his attention wasn't on the page.

“Join me.” Takasugi said. “We will destroy what grew on the grounds that we lost.”

Katsura laughed, wiping at his face with both hands. “How about  _ you _ join  _ me? _ We will let them rebuild all they want, but we'll take it from them when they're done.”

“No.” Takasugi said simply. He smiled then, a little quirk of his lips, picking his pipe back up. “Stay the night. Leave tomorrow.”

Katsura wouldn't argue. And maybe, when Katsura saw the news the next day about the familiar Amanto slaughtered in their own homes, he would understand that Takasugi had never really rejected him. Katsura would understand that Takasugi had accepted him back into his life in his own avoidant way.

And maybe in the future, when this suddenly came back up and trouble arose, Takasugi would be there again, accepting Katsura, and maybe even someone else, back into his life in his own avoidant way.

**Author's Note:**

> -Sweats- Only a year late, right?


End file.
